She decided to use Clint’s password and log directly into his company’s network .
There were letters from people turning to him for his opinion from all over the country, and beyond. Officials in Washington were contacting him regularly to support their bills. The information he gathered was vital to their decisions about where to drill, when and how. It seemed clear that Clint was doing a service to the entire world, both the drilling companies and the wild ocean life, shorelines, people, nations.
Fascinated, Cindy wanted to read the presentation he wrote that had been cancelled - his report on the Tearwall Project. It had to be somewhere here in his company files . Several other reports of his were there.
But to her surprise, the report on the Tearwall Project had been deleted.
Cindy sent out a flurry of emails to three or four people in the company then, asking if they had a copy.
It struck her then that the report might be on Clint’s personal computer. She quickly went to it, logged in as him and checked. As she did, Cindy was surprised to see that Clint had been heavily downloading his files from work, the last few weeks before the wedding. The Tearwall Project report had to be here. Cindy searched and searched.
It wasn’t there .
She got up from the desk and stretched. It was after one in the morning. She’d completely lost her sense of time. But she couldn’t sleep now, even if she wanted to. Her mind was spinning. She was troubled that Clint hadn’t told her that his presentation had been cancelled. Why not? He must have been embarrassed by it. Or, was there something in it that he didn’t want her to know? She couldn’t discount that possibility. More and more aspects of Clint’s life were now opening up in front of her eyes. She felt sick to her stomach. There was so much he hadn’t shared.
As she looked about the room, the boxes of files along the back of the room caught her eye. Her heart leapt. Maybe there was a hard copy of the report stored there. He couldn’t have just thrown it out. Cindy ran to the boxes and pulled them open.
These were neater, organized by subject and date, alphabetized in chronological order. That was a relief. She ruffled through them quickly. No sign or mention of The Tearwall Project Report.
Cindy put the packet of files down on her lap. Perspiration was running down her back. Where was that report? What happened to it? The report would contain both a copy of his presentation and details about the project itself. She absolutely had to have it. It couldn’t have vanished into thin air.
She needed a break, but didn’t have that luxury. Ann had been hurt. Who knew what would happen next? Both Heather and Clint’s little son could be in danger. She thought of how Heather’s face had grown ashen as she realized what was going on. Cindy didn’t really know what had gone on between her and Clint, but she certainly couldn’t let either of them be hurt. It wasn’t fair.
What was fair? Cindy wondered, as she dwelt on everything. She remembered asking Clint about his research from time to time. He’d said by and large, it was confidential. She’d never probed further. She’d never probed anything. Those days were over now. There wasn’t a sentence she’d now let go by.
Cindy had thought that Clint had told her everything about his life. They’d prided themselves on openness and honesty. Wrong. That frightened her. She’d always believed that life was fair, that there was order, balance and, at the end, justice for everyone. Now she questioned that .
It was disheartening going through his papers though, retracing his steps. But she needed specifics: names, dates, information. She’d have to contact the firm to get it.
Greg Hamden’s name suddenly came to mind. He and Clint had worked so closely together on the project. Yes. He’d be able to fill in the gaps.
Then Cindy thought of Henry Greerson. Maybe he could also help. He’d called several times, saying he had something to give her. He’d asked to take her for coffee. Even though she never felt comfortable with him, Clint had always liked him. They’d worked closely together . Seemed like it was time to take him up now on his invitation.
Cindy got up, went to the window and looked out at the garden. It was the middle of the night. The trees were being wildly buffeted by the winds that had gone on all day without stopping. The house felt fragile in the storm; not really not able to hold up under the wind’s constant onslaught. She was seized by a fear that a large branch would break off and crack the roof, or burst through the windows as the wind blew against the frail trees. Life suddenly seemed frail to Cindy, as though one could be blown away easily in any storm. She wondered what there was to hold onto? What could she really trust again?
It was almost morning, but Cindy still couldn’t sleep. She needed to talk to Greg. Maybe he’d be willing to meet her for lunch?
Cindy sat back down at Clint’s desk and emailed Greg, asking to set up a time for lunch.
To her surprise, an auto responder immediately replied.
Greg Hamden is no longer working for DGB Oil Company.
Cindy was shocked.
If you need to reach him, please contact his former assistant Bara, at the following phone number.
Cindy had no idea why Greg was no longer at the company. He’d been there even before Clint started working there.
She checked her watch: 5:15am. Bara wouldn’t be in for a few more hours.
Eyes closing with exhaustion, Cindy decided to catch some sleep. And then to call Bara as soon as she woke.
Cindy woke at 9.15, and immediately called Bara. Clint’s former assistant, Cindy knew her. They’d actually met a couple of times.
“I need to reach Greg Hamden,” she said when Bara picked up the phone. “Can you let me know how to contact him?”
“I’m sorry, that information is not available,” said Bara in a clipped tone.
This was ridiculous. Cindy would not be deterred. “It’s extremely important.”
“Who is this calling, please?”
“It’s Cindy Blaine, Clint Blaine’s wife.” Cindy was reluctant to tell her, but had no choice.
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, as if Cindy were the last person Bara expected to call.
“I’m so sorry about Clint,” Bara said quietly then. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” said Cindy.
“I’d love to help you, but -” Obviously, Bara had been told not to give any information out.
“Please,” Cindy interrupted, “Greg was Clint’s good friend. I don’t think he knows what happened to him.”
Bara stopped a moment. “That’s right, Greg left before we heard about Clint.”
“I know Clint would want him to be informed.” Cindy was playing on her feelings blatantly, but she had no choice.
Bara relented. “Okay, don’t tell anyone I’m giving you this.” And she quickly gave Cindy Greg’s phone number.
Cindy was thrilled to have it. “One more thing,” Cindy continued quickly, “Do you happen to have a copy of Clint ‘s report on the Tearwall Project? The one he and Greg worked on?”
A stony silence greeted her.
“Are you there?” Cindy asked.
“Greg and Clint’s business files were emptied out,” Bara said. “ I don’t have any of them,” Her voice became clipped again.
“There has to be a copy somewhere,” Cindy said.
“You’re pushing it,” said Bara.
“Sorry,” Cindy said, “and thanks for Greg’s phone number.”
Cindy hung up in amazement. Pushing what? The Tearwall Report was beginning to seem like the crowned jewels. What could be in it?
There were other people in the company who would know. Before Cindy contacted Greg, she sent a quick email to Greerson, telling him she’d love to arrange a time to meet .
Before she called Greg, Cindy went into the kitchen and poured a cup of steaming black coffee. Her lack of sleep the night before was beginning to take a toll. And Ann didn’t look well. Not only was she still exhausted but had an odd pallor. Cindy couldn’t let herself dwell on that now. But deep in the pit of her stomach, she was worried about her sister, scared that things weren’t going well.